


Bust your Kneecaps

by Mooncactus



Category: Skulduggery Pleasant - Derek Landy
Genre: F/M, Valduggery Week, Valduggery Week 2013
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-17
Updated: 2014-09-17
Packaged: 2018-02-17 19:40:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2321036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mooncactus/pseuds/Mooncactus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fics written for Valduggery Week of June 2013. Featuring "Running Late" (Wedding), "Playing Dead" (Death), "Namesake" (Goodbyes), and "Fake Boyfriend Sentiments" (Apocalypse)</p><p>Originally posted on Tumblr and FFN. Next Valduggery week: December 2014!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Running Late

**Author's Note:**

> So ... I have a considerable amount of SP fic I never posted on here, and figured I should play catch up. These will be posted between chapters of He said She Says. Most will be familiar if you've been on my FFN, but some were much harder to find, including a very silly multiple chapter fic i never posted outside the forums ... Anyway, hope this will hold you over until chapter 2 of HSSS, which is on its way!
> 
> All of these were written before LSODM. (Fun fact: the Amelia mentioned in the first chapter is the Petrichor of in LSODM/the Theatre Of Shadows clue.)

Valkyrie fidgeted in the salon chair she had been trapped in for the past four hours and tried not to sigh audibly.

“Are we done yet?”

“Almost,” replied the woman, a pixie-ish Elemental named Amelia. She groped for a lipstick on the salon table, and applied it quickly to Valkyrie. The stylist pressed her lips together, motioning for Valkyrie to do the same. Her lips made a satisfying smack when she did, and Amelia grinned.

“There you go. You’re all – wait, one of your curls are loose.” She darted around behind Valkyrie, armed with a bobby pin, and her client sighed.

Her gaze wandered out the window of the salon. It was a gorgeous day in June, the sun shining, people milling around and going about their day. She watched a man stoop to pick up a woman’s wallet – and then pocket it.

Her eyes narrowed, and she kept her gaze as he straightened, his face exposed.

Valkyrie stood suddenly, and Amelia made an angry noise in protest behind her.

“That man…” Valkyrie said, mostly to herself. “He’s a wanted criminal. He has posters all around the Sanctuary.”

“Of course he does,” Amelia tittered, not paying attention, trying to guide her back into her chair.

“Apparently he’s harmless, but he keeps doing magic in public, and giving Scrutinous and the rest of PR a field day. They think he’ll actually hurt himself – or someone else – any day now.” She glanced back at Amelia, who was frowning now, attention caught.

“Well… I’m sure someone will get him.”

Valkyrie bit her lip, forgetting about the lipstick.

Amelia tilted her head at her, and then her eyes widened. “Oh. No. Honey, no.”

“I’ll be right back,” Valkyrie said, swiping her bag off the chair.

“What are you doing?” The stylist cried. “You have to get to the mansion!”

“I’ll make it!” She called back, speed walking out the door.

“Get back here, Valkyrie Cain!”

Valkyrie did something like a half curtsey, apologetic, and dashed out the door. Her legs were sore from sitting so long, and she nearly toppled over once she got to the street.

She was clad in a white tank top and sweat pants, her hair piled and out of the way on her head. She tried to remember that while she ran after the man, across the busy street and down an alley. Car horns honked and mortals gawked, and she gave an apologetic smile, not slowing down.

The man realized he was being followed when she was about an arm’s width away from him, and he squawked indignantly, speeding up. She was a little disappointed that he remembered they were in an alley and skidded to a stop before he ran into the wall.

“Pinsen Needles,” she said, hoping she didn’t sound too breathless. “by the power endowed unto me under the Sanctuary Rule-”

“Wait a minute,” the man said, eyes widening. “You’re Valkyrie Cain. But you’re – you shouldn’t be here!” His voice was wavery but accusing.

“Justice doesn’t take holidays,” Valkyrie said, which she either heard from Skulduggery or an old cop show. Probably the latter.

The man’s lip quivered. “You can’t stop me. I’m unbeatable. People hear my name, and they’re, they’re, on pins and needles. They can’t, can’t even handle the thought of me, they shiver with antici-”

Valkyrie sighed, crossing her arms.

“-pation!”

“Are you done?”

“My crime is never done! It’s endless! An endless torrent of, of, torture!” He started to move his hands apart, fingers flashing with his ridiculously showy magic.

Valkyrie’s patience was rather short, thanks to the four hours of her own torture earlier. It was rather admirable that she waited this long to hit him in the face.

And hit him she did.

Needles cried out, eyes watery. “I’m bleeding!”

Valkyrie frowned, looked at her hand. She didn’t hit that hard. She turned her right hand over, and then saw the cause of the problem – her engagement ring.

“Just be glad you didn’t dent this thing,” she muttered, fishing a pair of handcuffs from her purse. He whimpered as she put them on, and she used them to drag him out of the alley, not wanting to touch any part of his sweaty fleshy self.

She was considering just leaving him in the dumpster to pick up later when she saw an intern she recognized from the Sanctuary – she was little, with wavy hair and a beauty mark to the left of her mouth.

“Micah,” she called softly, and the girl whirled.

“Valkyrie! …What are you doing?”

Valkyrie gestured for her to come closer, and the intern did, curious.

“I need your help.”

“Okay! What with?”

Valkyrie gestured towards her prisoner. “Can you escort Mr. Needles here to the Sanctuary?”

Micah’s eyes widened.

“That’s the spirit,” Valkyrie said, pushing him towards her. The man completely dwarfed her, but he was also whimpering and crying, so she figured it’d even out. Or something. The young should be challenged, or whatever.

Micah, for her part, straightened and set her lip. “Yes, ma’am.” She nodded at Valkyrie, and then suddenly took in the hair and makeup.

“Oh my God,” she said quietly, and then repeated it, louder. “Oh my God, what are you doing here!?”

“I know! I know. I… I have it covered. Will you be okay with him?”

Micah at least tried to mask her blind terror.

“Right. I, uh, knew you could do it. See you later,” she said, and then sprinted towards her car.

* * *

 

“You,” Tanith said, shaking her head, “are so dead.”

Ghastly wouldn’t even look at her. Valkyrie had never seen him this disappointed in someone who wasn’t Skulduggery before. She felt oddly proud.

She yanked off her tank top as Ghastly turned around, muttering to himself. Tanith helped her out of her clothes, and then removed a white gown from a hanger.

Valkyrie reached out to touch it, when Ghastly’s voice came from the corner of the room.

“Don’t gape at it,” he said, still turned away. “If you managed to show up on time, you would have actually had the time to admire and properly appreciate what took me four months to make.”

“I’m pretty sure he didn’t sleep at all for three of those,” Tanith added, as Valkyrie stepped into the gown. She held her breath as Tanith zipped it up, but then realized she didn’t have to. It fit as comfortably as her work clothes.

Valkyrie turned, catching herself in the mirror. She stared, dumbfounded, for a few moments. The woman there was dark eyed and dark haired, her white gown contrasting beautifully. It was simple in shape, sleeveless and not too poofy, but the bodice was intricately detailed with beading and lace. She wasn’t sure if she would have been able to recognize herself, if not for the toned shoulders and arms. She tilted her head back and forth, just to check it was her.

“Yeah,” Tanith said, grinning. “We know you’re hot.” She went to fix her make up, swiping away a blot of lipstick on Valkyrie’s teeth.

They turned when someone stuck their head through.

“Has she shown yet – oh!”

“Mum,” Valkyrie said, grinning.

Melissa grinned back. “Oh, God, I’m going to start crying. Get going before your father tells any more jokes.”

“He isn’t,” Valkyrie said, dismayed.

“He is,” Melissa said gravely. “At least it’s distracted everyone from your… delay. Well. Most everyone.”

Valkyrie winced.

“He’s been pacing for the past twenty minutes, sweetheart.”

Valkyrie opened her mouth to say something, but there was motion at the door. Melissa jolted.

“That had better been you, Desmond,” she muttered, and then scooted to make room for him in the room.

“Is she here?” Desmond said, looking around. “Because if not, I think I left a book of knock-knock jokes in Gordon’s study-”

“What, thirty years ago?” Melissa said, sighing. “And yes, she is. I’m going to tell them to start the music. You look beautiful, sweetheart,” she said to Valkyrie, and then left.

Desmond took her place, and finally took Valkyrie in, silently. She was worried he was going to cry. Normally she’d find it sweet, but all she could think of was Pinsen Needles whimpering.

“I can’t see your knees,” he said, finally, and then glanced at Ghastly. “Good work.”

“Thank you, sir,” Ghastly said seriously.

“Amazing work,” Valkyrie corrected, and then went to give Ghastly a kiss on the cheek. His serious expression finally broke, and he squeezed her hand.

“Thank you,” he said. “Now go before he has a heart attack.”

“He can’t have a heart attack,” Valkyrie said, over her shoulder.

“You haven’t seen him today,” Ghastly said, raising his eyebrows.

Tanith grabbed a bouquet off a table and shoved it in Valkyrie’s arms, and then gave her a quick hug. “Knock ‘em dead.”

“Deader than he already is,” Desmond said, and Valkyrie groaned.

Tanith took Ghastly’s arm, beaming, and they left the room to take their seats, leaving Valkyrie and her father alone.

He looked so old. There was more grey than black in his hair. He could be her grandfather now.

Desmond seemed to be realizing the same thing, though Valkyrie had barely aged a day in the past twenty years.

“If you were having second thoughts,” he said, quietly.

“I wasn’t,” she said immediately.

“Of course not,” he said. “But I did. And I was marrying a beautiful, funny, intelligent woman, not a four hundred year old-”

“Dad.”

“What I mean to say, it doesn’t mean you love them any less, or that you’re a bad person. It’s normal.”

“Being late because you were arresting a criminal isn’t.”

“Oh, is that what you were doing?” He chuckled. “I am so glad you’re my daughter.”

Valkyrie rolled her eyes, and they turned as they heard the pipe organ start up.

“It’s go time,” Desmond said, intertwining his arm with hers. Valkyrie took a deep breath and followed him into the ballroom. It had been set up with chairs – not too many, she had been picky on the guest list – and decorated by the same people who had managed the Requiem Ball over 20 years ago. Familiar faces turned to look at who finally showed up, and she suddenly felt overwhelmed and very glad her father was holding her up.

Gerald “Thrasher” Scapegrace caught her eye and gave her an encouraging smile. His partner seemed to be sulking, and suddenly Valkyrie found herself grinning.

She looked ahead, and there he was, standing at the altar. He wasn’t wearing a hat, which made him look strangely vulnerable. His skull tilted towards her, nonchalantly, but she could tell he had been worrying.

Erskine Ravel stood besides him, and he grinned cheekily at her. “Who gives this woman to be married?”

“I do,” Desmond said. He placed Valkyrie’s hand in Skulduggery’s gloved one. She watched as her father walked to the audience, sitting besides his wife, Fergus, and Crystal. Gordon’s echo stone flickered beside them.

“You,” said Skulduggery in an undertone as Erskine started talking about holy matrimony or whatever. “You are very late.”

“I’m aware,” Valkyrie muttered. “It was important.”

“More important than marrying the man of your dreams?”

“I thought Dexter couldn’t make it.”

He just looked at her, and she grinned.

“I was arresting Needles,” she explained.

“Pinsen?” He asked, and she nodded. “You delayed going to your own wedding so you could arrest someone?”

Valkyrie winced. “Are you upset?”

“No,” he said, sounding surprised. “Rather the opposite. You’re… something else, Valkyrie.”

“Well,” she said, “we can’t all take a day off.”

“Unlike you, I honestly don’t care what the world gets up to today.” He looked out at her, and then reached for the back of her head, playing with the loose curl Amelia had tried to wrangle earlier.

“Ahem,” Erskine said, and they straightened quickly. “As I was saying, should anyone here present know of any reason that this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Valkyrie and Skulduggery looked out at the crowd.

“Looks like your secret admirers forgot to show up,” she said to him.

“Your’s didn’t. I took care of them, though.”

“Oh, good.”

She smiled at him, and she could tell he was smiling right back. She took her hand in his, and they turned back towards Erskine. He waited a moment, and then wet his lips.

“Where was I? Oh, here. If no one-” He was interrupted by a disturbance in the audience.

“Valkyrie Cain!”

The bride to be turned around, and saw Pinsen Needles standing in the middle of the crowd, handcuffs gone.

“My arch foe,” he bellowed. “We meet again!”

Valkyrie swore under her breath.

 


	2. Death

           She didn’t know what had happened. One minute, twin streams of fire blasted from his hands, and his head was tilted back as if to say,  _look at me, aren’t I impressive?_

       And then the Necromancer got in a lucky shot, and he was on the ground, and Valkyrie screamed, without end, like she couldn’t stop, screaming her terror and rage and despair. The Necromancer took one look at her and disappeared, shadow walking off to who-knows-where, and she forced herself to not think about her, not think about revenge, because Skulduggery was at her feet and shadows were steaming off his clothes.

       Valkyrie dropped to her knees, almost hoping he was becoming Vile, that he was protecting himself somehow, like she did with Darquesse, but the shadows wouldn’t stick, wouldn’t hold together to create the shell that formed his armor.

        “Skulduggery?”

        Nothing.

        She took him by the shoulders and shook him desperately.

“Skulduggery, please.” Her hands clutched at his torn shirt. “Please, please, please, say something.” He didn’t breathe. He had no heartbeat. There was nothing to tell her he was still with her.

        “I need you. Stay with me. I love you, Skulduggery, just… just be okay.”

        But his skull was impassive, lifeless, unmoving.

        She dropped her head to his chest, hands bunched into fists, and felt fresh tears pour down her cheeks as –

        As his ribcage started shaking accompanied by a low, muffled sound.

       Valkyrie pulled back, alarmed, and watched as Skulduggery Pleasant laughed in her face.

       “I never knew you had such a flair for the dramatics.”

       Valkyrie gaped.

       “Though you’ve learned it all from me,” he said, thoughtfully. “I shouldn’t be surprised.”

       “What… what were you…?”

       He tilted his head, as if contemplating his answer. “Have you ever felt the urge to sit in on your own funeral? It was like that.”

       Valkyrie stared at him, open-mouthed.

       “Are you going to get off me?”

       A lot of words rolled through Valkyrie’s mind, but she didn’t think any of them quite suited the situation. Her hands moved upwards towards his collar, and Skulduggery winced and tried to pull away from her without much effect. Her thumb brushed against his façade tattoo. She didn’t care what his face looked like. She just had to see him. Alive.

       He only had time to blink at her in confusion before she pressed her mouth to his, hard, and kissed him until she could feel him gasping for a breath he didn’t need to take.  She kissed him for every second, every thought she had where she thought she had lost him, every heartbeat that had thudded in her chest as she waited for him to say something, anything. One of his hands was tangled in her hair, the other slid down her back.

       Valkyrie pulled back slowly, letting her lips brush against his softly, and then, before he opened his eyes, slapped Skulduggery with all her strength.     

       He actually cried out. She was impressed with herself.

       “I am really, really, really glad you’re not dead,” she said, shifting so she was sitting on his abdomen and looking down at him. “But you’re an  _asshole_.”

       Skulduggery looked overwhelmed, face red with an imprint of a handprint and a rather endearing blush.       

       “I deserved that,” he said at last.

       “Yes, you did,” Valkyrie said firmly.

       “I’m very, very sorry,” he said, gloved hand sliding up to touch her face. She let him.

       “Are you really,” she replied, raising an eyebrow, “or are you just trying to get another kiss?”

       “Depends on whether or not it’s working.”

       Valkyrie pretended to think. “No.” She slid off of him and got to her feet, offering him a hand to help him up.

       “Why not?” he asked, taking it.

       “One kiss per time I thought you were dead, thank you.”         


       “Fair enough,” Skulduggery said, and they walked hand in hand. Valkyrie wondered where the Necromancer had wandered off to.

       “Though I will add,” he said, look on his fake face mischievous, “technically, I’m  _always_  dead.”

       “Don’t push it, Pleasant.”


	3. Namesake

            Valkyrie woke facing a dead man’s face.  She didn’t know him, not by name – she thought he might have been an intern. Red stubble still covered his pale face. She turned to the other side, but there was another body, this time facing away from her, body twisted unnaturally. Valkyrie wasn’t sure what killed him. She didn’t want to know.

            She swallowed hard and reminded herself it was not her handiwork. There was a war going on, after all, and the bodies were far too clean and intact to have anything to do with Darquesse. This was not her fault. But the feeling of guilt was overwhelming nonetheless, and she pushed herself up to stand, so she wouldn’t have to look at the bodies.

            It was a bad idea.

            The battlefield was littered with bodies. No one fighting. No one getting up. No one stirring. She was… she was the only one.

            Valkyrie staggered back, hand on her forehead, overwhelmed by deja vu. Seven years ago she had walked into the Sanctuary and found a similar situation. But she hadn’t known anyone in that bloodshed – not at all.

            Now, the entire Irish Sanctuary lay at her feet. There was Tipstaff, Steven Weeper,  Kallista Pendragon… people she had known, people she had talked to.

            And those she had been friends with. Clarabelle’s eyes were wide in death, mouth slightly open. Close to her were the bodies borrowed by Scapegrace and his friend. To the other side was – was Nye.

            She blinked. She had never thought of it as something that could  _die_. She hated it, always had, mostly because it was one of the few things – beings, really, that she was afraid of. But now she felt something like sadness. She didn’t know what the hell Nye was, but she had the impression it was the last of them.  And now… no more.

            She flew, a present from her brand new surge, hovering so she would have to step on anyone. Valkyrie floated around until she found who she was looking for. They were far away from Clarabelle and Nye, right at the front. She supposed they were considered more important.

            There lay the Dead Men, the five of them lined up in a neat row. Ravel was there – whoever did this apparently didn’t get the memo that he had betrayed them all. But his beautiful gold eyes were closed, and somehow looking at him didn’t muster the hatred it used to. There were two missing – herself, the newest member, and…

            She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.  _Okay_ , she thought to herself _. Okay. Now I just have to find him._

            There was something about this that felt familiar, something stronger than when she had fought Serpine, but every time she reached for the thought, it scattered. She dismissed it, knowing she had more important things to do.

            Valkyrie’s feet touched the ground, landing on a suit jacket covered in dust.  The tip of her boot brushed Saracen Rue’s hair. She swallowed hard, and slowly turned away.

            And then jumped.

            There was a man standing 3 metres away, staring at her. She didn’t know him, and she knew, logically, that someone alive in the middle of a field of dead bodies probably was the cause of said dead bodies, but something but relief flooded her, just as seeing someone else, another person  _alive_.

            She kept her dark eyes on him as she went for her gun at her belt, her eighteenth birthday present from Skulduggery. She raised it and aimed.

            “State your business,” she said, trying hard to keep her voice steady but finding it raw from dust and lack of use.

            The man frowned, and then smiled. Both expressions looked unfairly attractive on a person she wasn’t sure hadn’t mass murdered all of her friends. He was tall, with dark hair that had started to go grey at the sides. He reminded her a bit of Ravel – which made her wary – but also Vex, and Rue. There was something to him, however, that was calm, at peace, in a way that the other men never were. Or at least, hadn’t been in years. Her hand didn’t waver.

            “This is a bit more hostile than I expected,” said the man, mostly to himself.

            He had Skulduggery’s voice. Valkyrie stopped breathing, and then dug the nails of her left hand into her leg, forcing herself to regain her senses.

            “You’re not Skulduggery,” she said. “Why are – what are you?”

            The man stared at her like she was stupid. “Of course I am, what are… oh.”  He looked down at himself, and then the air rippled, and her skeleton detective was standing before her.

            “Is that better?”

            Valkyrie dropped the gun, and then took a shaky step toward him, and then another, until she stood in front of him. She could feel herself shaking.

            “It’s me,” he said softly.       

            Valkyrie stared at his skull, the way it tilted towards her, the dents and cracks and nicks.

            “How do I know you’re not some… trick?”

            “Ah,” said Skulduggery, tilting his head all the way back. For some reason, his hat didn’t fall. “The age-old question. You proved to me you were real by telling me what cereal you ate that morning, right?”

            “Right.”

            “But I don’t eat cereal. I never have. I’m limited in that way, so I suppose I’ll have to think of some other clever way to prove-”

            “You just did.”

            “What?”

            “You just proved it,” Valkyrie answered. “The cereal thing. I didn’t tell anyone about that.”

            “Right,” Skulduggery said. “Unless I’m a figment of your imagination.”

            Valkyrie gave him a look. “That doesn’t explain where that face came from.”

            “Did you like it?”

            “ _Skulduggery_.”

             He gave an apologetic shrug. “Right. I’m a little distracted. My bad. So I’m real, then?”

            “Apparently,” Valkyrie breathed, feeling her relief fill her. She reached out to touch his skull.

            “No, don’t do that –“ he said quickly, but it was too late – her fingerstips went right through him.

            Valkyrie pulled back, scared. “What are you?” When he didn’t answer, she raised her voice. “ _What the hell are you?”_

            “I’m real,” he assured her, voice soft. “Valkyrie, no, I’m real, I’m here, I promise, I’m just…”

            “Just what?”

            He looked at her, and for a moment his skull flickered and she saw the man again, his expression distraught.

            “Dead,” he admitted at last.

            Valkyrie just shook her head. “You’re always dead.”

            “Deader than usual.”

            “No,” Valkyrie said. “No, you’re impossible to kill. People try and it just, it just  _doesn’t work_. You can’t be dead. The only person who got close was Melancholia, because she was the…”

            Valkyrie looked around her, and suddenly remembered where she had seen this scene before.

            “No,” she said again, in a whisper. “Oh, God, no.”

            Skulduggery stood beside her. “Surprise,” he said drily. “The temple in America has found itself a Death Bringer.”

             “And they took out the entire Irish Sanctuary. The final strike.” Valkyrie looked out at the rows of bodies. “How did…” she couldn’t finish, already fearing the answer.

            “Darquesse has saved you from this before,” Skulduggery said. “I suppose she’s done it again.”

            “But there’s no rampage,” Valkyrie said. “Nothing at all.”

            “Not a lot to do when everyone’s already dead. Guess she went for a nap.” He paused. “…Surrounded by dead bodies. That’s a nice thought.”

            Valkyrie swallowed. “But you’re okay too, right? Or you will be.”

            He looked at her.

            “My body is dust now. That’s what you stepped on earlier, actually. Thank you for that, by the way.”

            “But you’re  _here_ ,” she insisted, fighting to keep her calm. “Right now, talking to me.”

            “Yes,” Skulduggery agreed. “I’m stuck.”

            She frowned.

            “Tied to this battlefield. Tied to… tied to you.”

            Valkyrie tried to reach out and touch him, but her hand passed through once more. His gloved hand went out, and he cupped it, fingers curved carefully so they didn’t pass through.

            “I’ve been avoiding death for the past four hundred years. My soul was tethered to that body, and once Necromancy released it… it fell apart. And instead of floating off to whatever corner of hell I’m destined for, it stayed with you.” His other hand reached out and went to touch her hair, and she felt the ghost of his touch.

            Valkyrie looked down. “Well,” she said. “You sure know how to flatter a girl. That’s it, then. We find you a new body, put your soul there, then kick the asses of whoever did this-”

            “I’m sure you will,” he said. “But not with me.”

            “Are you asking me to leave you behind?” Valkyrie’s head spun. 

            “Not at all,” he said, voice calm and steady. “I need you to let me go.”

            “No.” Valkyrie said, glaring at him, eyes suddenly wet with tears. “Never.”

            “Valkyrie-”

            “No,” she repeated, her voice rising in volume. “Skulduggery, I  _need_  you. I can’t, I’m not strong enough.”

            He shook his head. “Of course you are. It’s in your name. Valkyrie, the warrior woman who leads the soul of the dead off the battlefield. It’s who you are.”

            “I can’t do it,” Valkyrie said, suddenly shouting. She pulled her hand away, and it went through his. His image scattered and reformed. “I can’t. Skulduggery, please, don’t make me-”

            “I won’t,” he said, softly. “I would never. But you can’t stay with me here forever. You’re the last one, Valkyrie. The last Dead Man, the last member of the Irish Sanctuary.”

            She swallowed, suddenly choking back sobs. “I don’t want to be, Skulduggery, I want you with me. Please. God, don’t leave me.” She went to hug him, but felt only air.

            All he could do was look at her.

            “It’s Hell either way for me,” he said. “Might as well get it done and over with.”

            “You’re not going to Hell,” Valkyrie said. “You feel bad for the things you’ve done, for being Vile, you’ve repented. You won’t.”

            He laughed. “I became Vile to protect you half a dozen times. I don’t regret that. I’d never regret that.”

            Valkyrie swallowed. “You’re making this a lot harder, you know.”

            His face flickered back with an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”

            She exhaled slowly. “I don’t know what I’ll do… I don’t know what I’ll become when you leave.”

            “It’s out of my hands then,” he said. “I won’t know either way.”

            “But the people I might hurt…”

            “Killed my best friends,” he said. “Killed innocent people.”

            She grit her teeth. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

            “Have you made up your mind, then?”

            Valkyrie looked at him, tears running down her face. “I don’t want to.”

            “I know, dear.”

            “But I have to,” she said, and rubbed at her face.

            “You’re a very brave girl,” he said, softly.

            “I love you,” she said, slowly, pulling out the words.

            “I love you too,” he said. “Until the end.”

            She choked out another sob before repeating it back. “Until the end. And this is it, isn’t it? This is goodbye.”

            “Not at all, Valkyrie.” Skulduggery said gently. “We’ll see each other again.”

            “I’ll search for you,” she said. “Every circle of hell, everywhere, even if you get reincarnated, I’ll find you again, okay? I promise. I promise.”

            “I’ll take you up on that,” he said, smile in his voice, and she knew she couldn’t delay this any longer.

             “Give them hell for me,” Skulduggery said. She looked at him, and she thought of the past seven years, every joke, every time she had tried to impress him, every time she had cried and tried to hide it, the crushes and the secrets and the lies and the safe haven they had built together, all their own.

            She looked again, and he was gone, and for a moment, she wondered if he had been there at all.

            Valkyrie wiped away her tears and breathed, slowly, feeling her magic surge in her veins, feeling it build with every heartbeat.

            It was time for her to raise cain.

 


	4. Fake Boyfriend Sentiments

       In hindsight, they really should have been more careful.

       Valkyrie had spent the entire car ride from Skulduggery’s to her parents’ house trying not to cry. War was coming – everyone said so – and she couldn’t help but feeling like this was the last time she’d ever see them. Skulduggery noticed, as he always did, and when he stopped the Bentley, he followed her out of the car, façade on, and held her. She hugged him and his fake chin rested on the top of her head, and they stood like that for a while, and she felt like everything, for once, would be okay.

       Until her front door opened.

       “Stephanie?” Her mother called. “…Who’s this?” Her father stood next to her, expression unusually hostile.

       Valkyrie jumped and parted from Skulduggery, who immediately straightened to his full height. He only did that when he was intimidated.

       “Um,” Valkyrie said, looking at Skulduggery. She debated whether they should just run.

       He hesitated only a moment. “My name is…”

       “No,” Melissa said. “I meant, who are you  _to Stephanie_?”

       Valkyrie shot Skulduggery a panicked look, and he sent one back. She was worried his fake face would start falling apart.

       “He’s my, um…” Valkyrie started. The hug was innocent, obviously, they were just friends, but … how would she explain why she was friends with someone so much older than her?

       “Boyfriend,” she finished, panicking, just as Skulduggery provided, “Teacher.”

       Her parents stared, expressions identical, thanks to twenty years of marriage.

       “Teacher,” Valkyrie said.

       “Boyfriend,” Skulduggery said.

       Desmond narrowed his eyes. “Which is it, then?” He said, directing the question at Skulduggery.

       He bit his lip softly. “…Teacher and then boyfriend.”

       Valkyrie ground her heel into his foot. He shot her an injured look, and she sent her best ‘you’re making it worse’ glare back.

       “I see,” Desmond said. “And how old are you?”

       Valkyrie pushed her heel deeper.

       “…Thirty-three,” Skulduggery answered. Valkyrie tried not to wince. It was an age that matched his face (maybe a little too young, but reasonable) but she was hoping he’d at least pick twenty-something.

       “At least he’s not lying,” Melissa mouthed to her husband. Valkyrie read her lips, feeling as if her mother couldn’t even grasp the extent of how wrong she was.

       “And what do you teach?” Desmond continued his interrogation, ignoring his wife’s comment.

       “Self defense,” Skulduggery said smoothly, and Valkyrie could have cried from relief. She squeezed his hand with gratitude. As her self-defense instructor he didn’t have the same position of authority over her, and would have only met her after she turned 16 – making this situation far, far less creepy.

       Well. As less creepy as her dating a thirty-three year old could be. God damn it.

       “And what are your intentions towards my daughter?” Desmond said. She had heard him say this before – to Fletcher, ages ago. She had thought it was too much then, but that had nothing on the hostility in his voice now.

       Skulduggery tilted his head at Valkyrie, and she shrugged.

       “Mostly to teach me how to kick his ass if he ever hurts me,” she said.

       She saw her mother crack a tiny smile.

       “And what about marriage?” Desmond said, voice low.

       Valkyrie went red. For the first time, she really wished she had Billy-Ray Sanguine’s magic. The ground opening up and eating her would be a blessing.

       “If she’d have me,” Skulduggery said, and then seemed to realize what he actually just said. His fake face flushed. “Uh. I, I, mean once she’s finished university and has a stable job.”

       Valkyrie wasn’t sure if her dad’s face relaxed or he had a muscle spasm of rage. She decided to cut this torture short.

       “Anyway,” Valkyrie said, voice trilling. “He has to, uh, teach a class.”

       “Yes. Class. Very important. Will definitely get, uh, fired, if I miss it. So sorry to cut this short, Mr. and Mrs. Edgley,” Skulduggery said, and he nearly ran to the Bentley.

       Melissa watched as he drove away, and then whistled. “Nice car,” she said to Valkyrie.

       “I don’t like him,” Desmond said, and Valkyrie didn’t doubt it in the slightest.

       “Go inside, Des,” Melissa said, and her father obeyed, probably to attack a dartboard or make a voodoo doll. Would a voodoo doll even work on Skulduggery? …Were voodoo dolls even real magic?

       She’d have to ask him. If she was ever let out of the house again.

       “He’s very polite,” Melissa said, and Valkyrie tried not to snort. “I almost feel like I’ve seen him before.”

       “Uh, no,” she said. “He… moved here. Two years ago.”

       Melissa turned to look at her, expression carefully neutral. “Is that how long you’ve been dating?”

       “What? No, God.”

       “Because that’s about when you broke up with Fletcher, isn’t it?”

       “Mum, no, it’s only been like,” she faltered, frowning, searching for a reasonable number, “two months.”

       “That was not a man who had only been involved for two months,” she muttered. “Des mentioned marriage and he didn’t even flinch.”

       “He’s just… old fashioned.”

       Melissa exhaled slowly. “So is he like… a sugar daddy, or-“

       “ _Mum_ ,” Valkyrie said, mortified.

       “I saw the car. And the suit. Oh, God, was he the one who gave you the necklace for your birthday?”

       Valkyrie faltered, tongue-tied.

       “He  _was_. I knew there was something going on there. At least he’s treating you well. He is, isn’t he?”

       “Yes,” Valkyrie said, choosing to ignore the broken bones and near death experiences and the fact his evil alter ego had gorged her eye out once. “Very well.”

       “Well,” she said. “He’s far too old for you, but I know you can handle yourself. I’d be more worried about him, honestly. He’s rather skinny, especially for a self-defense teacher. Tall, though. Never thought you’d find someone tall enough for you.”

       “Uh, yeah. Me neither.”

       “I’m going to go check on little miss. Tell her not to date men nearly twice her age before it’s too late.”

       Valkyrie watched her go inside, and then cringed. She dialed her brand new fake boyfriend as she walked upstairs into her room. It was about ten pm, and she was tired.

       “Well,” Skulduggery voice came from her phone. “That was a disaster.”

       “No,” Valkyrie said. “That went straight past disaster to “end of the world.” Apocalypse, even. That was bad. That was really bad.”

       She stepped into her bedroom and started to pull off her shirt.

       “I’m in your back garden,” he said, and she made an alarmed noise and quickly pulled her shirt back on.

       She opened the window for him.

       “Are you trying to get killed?’

       His façade was off, but she could feel his confusion as he pulled himself upwards. “I’ve done this a dozen times, Valkyrie, I won’t fall.”

       “I mean staying in my bedroom. While my parents think you’re my much too old for me boyfriend.”

       “…Ah. I didn’t think about that.”

       “No, you didn’t. Now shoo.”

       Skulduggery shook his head. “I’m worried about you. We never got to finish talking about the war, and your parents…”

       She felt tears in her eyes, and fought them back. “It’s fine. After that I think I’d rather not see them again.” She forced a smile.

       He look at her, skull tilted sympathetically, and went to hug her again.

       She stepped back.

       “We need to break up,” she blurted out.

       “What?”

       “I mean. Fake break up. As fake boyfriend and girlfriend.”

       “I don’t see why.”

       Valkyrie scoffed.

       “Wouldn’t it be nice to hide one less thing from them?”

       “Are you stupid?”

       He looked as offended as a skeleton could. “Excuse me?”

       “Your façade, moron. It changes. They would be a little concerned on why my boyfriend had plastic surgery.”

       “…Right,” he said. “But I don’t want them to think I broke up with you after meeting your parents.”

       “What if I broke up with you?”

       “I would have won you back,” he said immediately. “Really, Valkyrie. It’s like you don’t know me at all.”

       “Yeah. You’re quite the charmer.”

       “That sounded like sarcasm.”

       “Me?  _Never_.”

       Skulduggery crossed his arms. “I would be an excellent boyfriend.”

       “Fake boyfriend.”

       “Right.”

       “As I was saying-“ Valkyrie started, but Skulduggery suddenly stepped towards her, hand over her mouth. She heard her parents talking down stairs, and then silence.

       She looked up at him, his impassive skull, and there was a long period of silence, unusually awkward for them. Today had been too weird. She started to turn, to look at the door, but he gently pulled her face back towards him. His hand slid down, cupping her chin. He slowly ran his thumb over her lower lip, and she swallowed hard.

       He tilted his head so his teeth were by her ear.

       In a whisper: “I would have won you back, Valkyrie.”

       She believed him. He released her, and she smoothed her hair back, trying to avoid thinking about the fact she was blushing heavily.

       “You should stay here tonight,” she said suddenly.

       “What, after you told me your parents would kill me?”

       “Exactly. I want to see if dad will throw someone out a window again.”

       He grumbled something.

       “And,” she said, in a much softer voice. “I feel better when you’re here. Less stupidly weepy.”

       He looked at her for a long moment, and then nodded.

       “Of course.”

       She gestured for him to turn around, and then she changed out of her clothes and snuggled into bed. He stood and started to settle into the chair in the far corner of her room.

       “Over here,” Valkyrie said, patting the comforter.

       Skulduggery pulled back. “Uh. I don’t think that’s the best idea.”

       “What happened to the charmer?”

       “He’s worried about getting thrown out a window on the second story.”

       Valkyrie scoffed and reached to turn out the light. She waited a moment, and then snuggled against her pillow.

       A few seconds later, she heard movement, and then felt the bed shift as Skulduggery kneeled.

       “There’s no room at all,” he complained.

       “Then get close.”

       “Valkyrie…”

       “If you’re  _insisting_  on being my fake boyfriend, I want cuddles.”

       “Fake cuddles?”

       “Real cuddles.”

       He sighed. “Very well,” he said, and for a moment she wondered if this really was bothering him. Then he lay down, and she wrapped herself tight in her sheets and snuggled up against him, head on his bony chest. He didn’t hesitate before softly stroking her hair.

       “Thank you,” she said.

       “Not a problem, dear.”

       “Pet names already?”

       Valkyrie thought he might have been embarrassed, based on his silence. “I’ve called you that before.”

       She frowned. “So you have. Were you having fake boyfriend sentiments all this time?”

       “…Maybe not fake,” he admitted quietly, and Valkyrie went silent, feeling her heart thumping in her chest. He could probably feel it too.

       “You are way too old for me,” she said, keeping her tone light. “And too violent.” He scoffed at that one, but she continued. “And too bad at recognizing my obvious sarcasm. Also, my mother thought you were my sugar daddy.”

       “Wait.” She felt him shift to look at her. “Seriously?”

       “Yeah.”

       He thought a moment. “…She’s not that far off.”

       “What?”

       “You did make me renovate my house for you. And buy you all of those expensive things.”

       “You did that all on your own, thank you. Not my fault. I’m not some… gold digger.”

       “True. I don’t regret it, just so you know.”

       “More fake boyfriend sentiments?”

       “Maybe.”

       “I don’t mind,” she said. “You make a nice fake boyfriend.”

       “I can’t say the same for you.”

       “Well, good, seeing as I’m not actually trying to be a boyfriend.”

       “I mean as a  _girlfriend_. You’ve been nothing but cruel to me.”

       “Oh, harsh.” She pushed herself upwards and then tried to find his cheek in the dark. She ended up kissing him towards the top of his teeth.

       “Better?”

       “Much,” he said, sounding content. She felt weirdly giddy.

       “I’m going to sleep now.” She nuzzled against his chest.

       “What do I do if your parents come in here?”

       “Tell them I dumped that gross teacher for my biology class’s skeleton.”

       Skulduggery sighed. “Charming, you are.”

       “Now who’s being sarcastic?”

       He started to turn on his side, causing her to slowly slide off him and fall to the ground. She shrieked, and he caught her before she fell.

       “Ssh,” he said.

       “You’re horrible.”

       “You just don’t know how to appreciate a fake boyfriend.”

       “Or a real one.”

       He was silent. “… We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

       “Yeah,” she said, yawning. “If you live through the night.”

       He sighed. “You are hazardous to my health.”

       “I try.” She pulled up her blankets over the both of them, and then closed her eyes.

       “Night.”

       “Goodnight, Valkyrie.”

       “You’re going to be cringing at every little noise during the night, aren’t you?”

       He said nothing, and she laughed.


End file.
